Loss and Redemption
by Tina95
Summary: All those people he had known. All those people whose company he had cherished. Each one he had lost, through his own stupidity. He was alone, and would be from then on, as punishment for his numerous wrongdoings, for his many mistakes. Snape's POV.
1. 1 Lily's Friendship

**_All those people he had known. All those people whose company he had cherished. Each one he had lost, through his own stupidity. He was alone, and would be from then on, as punishment for his numerous wrongdoings, for his many mistakes._**

**A/N: Rated for room to work.**

**Edit: I found that my dividing line was missing, so I'm fixing that now.**

* * *

**1. Lily's friendship**

Severus Snape was left staring at the closed portrait-hole. That was it. It was the end. He knew he had been pushing their relationship. She could not understand why he enjoyed the company of some of his friends. He had not known how deep her detest for them was. He had not known that he would ever had pushed their friendship so far. Now, after so many years of friendship, of unrequited love, it was finished. He could feel tears burning the back of his eyes but he fought them back. He would not cry, not shed tears for the world which pushed so hard to get them to fall.

"Lily," he whispered brokenly. She had turned her back on him. Anger welled up, not at her - never at her - but at the rest of the world. It was they who provoked him, who had teased and bullied him. It was they who had embarrassed him. And leading this group, leading the never-ending torment, was Potter. He felt his face twist into a sneer at the thought of the boy.

The arrogant prat was everything he was not. Admired, beloved, and popular, the dark-haired James Potter could have nearly anybody in the school. Almost all the girls would jump at a chance to go out with him. But of all the choices he had, of all the girls he could have fallen for, Potter had to have fallen in love with Lily. His Lily. The Lily he'd known since they were both children. The Lily he'd introduced to magic. The Lily he had loved so dearly, so truly, for as long as he could remember. The Lily who now ignored him, who hated him, for calling her the unspeakable word: Mudblood.

And there he was now, rounding the corner towards the Fat Lady. Severus felt a wave of hatred overcome him. Here was his chance. For the first time in a long while, his enemy was alone. Alone and helpless. Seeing nothing but his approaching target, he drew further into the shadow, out of sight behind a conveniently located pillar, and pulled out his wand.

When Potter was within distance, he leapt out and shouted, _"Levicorpus!"_ In his haste, he missed and the spell shot to James's right. Growling, he shot a Bat-Bogey Hex after it, which also missed. The shouts brought several people just inside the Gryffindor common room out, looking to see what was happening.

By then, James had realized he was under attack and retaliated, whipping out his wand and yelling, _"Stupefy!"_ Snape ducked and felt the jet of air shoot right over his head. His blood boiled as he glared at the person who had caused him so much trouble and heartache. He straightened and sent curse after curse at the other boy. With the nimble skill of a Quidditch player, Potter danced around them and shot more spells back at him, to subdue the fighting. His arrogance at the belief that he could be stopped infuriated Snape. _He thought he was perfect,_ he thought with bitter hatred. _Well, he won't be much longer!_

Wanting nothing more than to hurt, to kill, he screeched, _"Sectumsempra!"_

The spell was perfectly aimed and cut deeply into James's leg. He looked at the wound in astonishment as pain flickered across his face. Then he fell. The onlookers screamed and backed away as Snape, breathing hard, looked at them, his black eyes full of malice and suppressed anger.

"STOP!" The scream rang out, the only one among the multitude that he fully heard. Lily stepped forward, her face pale with anger. "What did you do?" she demanded, staring him full in the face.

He turned away, unable to look into those brilliant green eyes, to see the revulsion and horror mixed in the grief-filled gaze. He didn't have to see the glare she threw him as she knelt down at James's side. Even that boy was more important to her now. To her, the friend she had known for so many years was gone, replaced by a stranger whom she disliked as much as her friends disliked him.

Behind him, he could hear her, shouting for someone to get Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall. Her voice dropped as she murmured encouragements to the boy whom she used to loath. His vision blurred and he hurried away, hiding his face from the crowd, letting the tears he'd given up fighting stream down his face. He did not look back.


	2. 2 Trust and Devotion to Voldemort

**A/N: Thank you to PhanforLife for the lovely review. I'm glad you enjoyed it.**

**Now, I forgot to say this last time, but I'm too lazy to go back and change it now. Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All that belongs to the talented J.K. Rowling.**

**Also, I don't have a beta, so if there are any errors, be sure to let me know.**

* * *

**2. Trust and Devotion to Voldemort**

It'd been several years since he'd joined the ranks of Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters. Snape felt a surge of belonging as he joined the crowd today. There was nothing but pride and righteousness when he performed those tasks ordered by his master. Muggles were inferior to him and he felt nothing but pleasure in making them pay. If not subdued, each would go the same as his father. All muggles were creatures. Each burned with cruelty and stupidity. They deserved all they got. He pointedly ignored the small voice in his mind that reminded him of one daughter of muggles that was not so stupid, so cruel.

He'd been well-admired by his fellow Death Eaters and rose quickly. His biggest mission was one of stealth: to shadow Professor Dumbledore and relay all important information back to his master. For days, he had been tailing the man, to no avail. The men who had come to admire him began to distance themselves from him, to ridicule him in order to save themselves from the Dark Lord's discontent if the attempt should fail. But now, his perseverance would be paid off for sure. That would show those men who believed he was only given this job to keep him out of the way that he did deserve to be part of Lord Voldemort's most faithful circle.

At first, he'd been doubtful that this trip would have been anymore successful than the rest. But then, he heard it. A prediction foreseeing the fall of the Dark Lord. His master would be very interested in that. He repeated it in his head several times, making sure he could remember it all. _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him... Born as the seventh months dies..._

What came next? He paused, realizing that there had been more. He swore under his breath as he hurried to his place. The barkeeper had found him "skulking outside the room" and threw himout. But Lord Voldemort did not have to know this. This in itself should be plenty. He thought, casting his mind towards who the message could imply. He believed that Frank and Alice Longbottom were expecting a child. And James- He clamped down on that thought before it could get out. There was no way any child of that idiot would ever amount to much. No, the prophecy spoke of the Longbottom's child.

"Any news, Severussss? What doesss Dumbledore do?" his master hissed.

All heads turned to him, some with open contempt and scorn. How he loathed their arrogance. Did they not believe that he was capable of bringing back any news worthy of the Dark Lord's time? Did they really think that they alone deserved to be the one most valuable to Lord Voldemort? They were nothing. His climb up the chain of command would not be hindered by these foolish dunderheads.

He bowed, purposely excluding the entire crowd from the formality. "My Lord, I have tailed Professor Dumbledore according to orders. He traveled to Hogsmeade today, to interview a witch for the post of Divination."

Somebody in the crowd snorted contemptuously. He could feel their ridicule mounting, preparing to toss harsh words of failure towards him. They could not see the importance in the event. Some began to murmur, others to talk openly, all taunting the occasion that he had witnessed.

Lord Voldemort alone did not speak. He calmly watched him, knowing perhaps that had the situation not been important, he would never have brought it up. "I believe Traversss was on duty at Hogsmeade today. Why was thisss unmentioned?" His mask of detachment hid a slowly simmering anger.

"My Lord," Travers replied hurriedly. "I did not think it was worth mentioning. Albus Dumbledore often visits Hogsmeade and buys a drink at The Three Broomsticks."

"He did not go to The Three Broomsticks today," Snape interjected. "His goal was where Sybill Trelawney was staying, the Hog's Head." At the mention of the witch in question, the Death Eaters resumed their taunting. They could not determine how an interview with such an unskilled individual could have any interest to their master. Once again, Lord Voldemort remained quiet, turning his calm gaze on the men. Though he did not change his expression, they silenced.

"He wished to interview her for the post of Divinations professor at Hogwarts," he continued in the eerie silence. "The usual questions resumed..." In his mind, he could see the scene unfolding, from only hours previously.

_He hurried in the shadows, eager to catch up to his quarry. There would be no killing today, but he was sent to tail Dumbledore and he would do so well, to ensure that all the Death Eaters knew he deserved his position in their circle. Spying the man's cloak twist around a corner, he followed it, noting with some contempt the building they were entering._

_"The Hog's Head," he muttered disdainfully under his breath. Nevertheless, he entered, unwilling to let the man out of his sight. Forgetting to hide himself, he hurried up the stairs, trailing the wizard before him. Reaching the upper landing, he heard the door at the end of the hall quietly ease shut. Abandoning caution, he edged up to it and attempted to peer into the room through the keyhole._

Dumbledore is getting sloppier_, he thought when he focused on the object of his hunt. Normally, he would long have remembered to block and secure the room so that nobody would listen in. Perhaps the meeting was not as important as his master had suspected...? No. Lord Voldemort was never wrong. There was something more to this meeting. Perhaps the man was attempting to make the visit seem more innocent._

_Banishing his doubts, he focused carefully the events folding inside the room._

"For some time, he interviewed her. The normal questions," he added quickly, seeing the question in his master's expression. "She did not seem to be a Seer, or, if she was, she was a weak one." Contempt sharpened his tone, twisting it cruelly.

_He had waited a long time. Far too long. And yet, still the interview dragged. He longed to leave but he daren't displease his master. Neither did he want to be the object of the Death Eaters' scorn._

_Finally, Dumbledore stood and promised to inform Trelawney on any possible information. It seemed he was unable to make a decision at that moment. And then..._

"It wasn't until Dumbledore was ready to leave that something happened."

_Yes, something had happened indeed. The witch, sitting nervously in a chair before the fire, had stiffened and froze. Dumbledore, turning around to bid her good night, stared and leapt forward to catch her as she tipped forward in her seat._

"Trelawney stiffened and fell forward, nearly out of her chair," he continued to narrate. "When she spoke, it wasn't in her normal tone. And her words were in the language of prophecy."

Several members of the crowd leaned forward, eager to hear what had been predicted. The Dark Lord himself looked expectantly at the man, willing him to continue.

"What did she say?" he demanded in a silky voice.

Hearing the threat barely concealed in the soft voice, Snape quickly shared all of the prophecy he heard. As he spoke, the men around them began to stir, especially at mention of the downfall of the Dark Lord.

"I see," was the only thing that his master said. "Is that all?"

Snape swallowed. No, that was not all. But he hadn't caught the rest.

_Suddenly, a voice interrupted the silence. "What're you doing here?"_

_Snape spun around and found himself staring at the livid barkeeper. "I asked you a question," the man repeated angrily. "What are you doing skulking around the room?"_

_He did not reply, trying as he was to make out the words of the woman in the room. A second later, he realized his mistake. A large hand clamped down on his shoulder and pulled him back, down the stairs and to the front door._

_"Spying on them, eh?" the man snarled once they had arrived before the entrance. "You little scum! GET OUT!" With a final shove, Snape found himself propelled into the night, thankful that the barkeeper had done nothing more._

"Yes, My Lord," he whispered, bowing his head to prevent anyone from seeing his eyes, knowing Legilimency only worked when two wizards looked eye-to-eye.

"And what can you make of it?"

He paused, thinking. "There will be a child born at the end of July. The parents will have, by luck and chance, escaped our clutches three times, but no more. We must dispose of this vermin."

"Excellent..."

Lord Voldemort glanced around, inviting everyone into the conversation. "All of you. Who do you know is to have child soon?"

Some of the crowd who had missed the quiet revelations before them looked shocked at the subject but other names were called forth. The Longbottoms. The Ashcrafts. The Orzells. The Potters...

At the last suggestion, Snape willed his face into stone. He would not react. He would not show what hold Lily Evans Potter still possessed over him. Focusing on schooling his features, he did not realize the discussion had ended until he was addressed once more.

"That is all. Severusss, stay here. We must talk about the plansss."

The rest of the Death Eaters realized they were dismissed and left, giving the Dark Lord a deep bow as they did so. Snape looked at them with some distaste, finding them sycophantic and weak. Once the last one left, he turned back to his master.

"My Lord," he prompted.

"Severusss..." was the quiet reply. "I need more information about the Longbottoms and the Pottersss. I need a double-agent in the Order. You are the best suited to this job. Go to Dumbledore. Have him take you in. Obtain more information about the protection and location of the families."

"Yes, My Lord," Snape replies automatically. His mind was focused on the names that had issued from his master's mouth. The Potters. Lily. Lord Voldemort wanted to kill her child. And therefore, he would kill them all. Including his beautiful, gentle Lily.

"You can leave."

The man walked away mechanically, somewhat surprised that he hadn't stumbled in his preoccupation and worry. _Dumbledore,_ he told himself. _Dumbledore can help you. He's the only chance you have._ And if he had to turn against his master, then so be it. He would do anything to keep Lily safe. Anything.

* * *

**Please, please review.**


	3. 3 Lily, His Only Love

**A/N: What can I say to really explain this? I'm so sorry about the delay (for those of you who are still reading, that is) and all I can say in my defense is: real life got in the way. Epically. It's no fun being a high schooler taking more AP classes than I should. Let me know if there are any typos, please!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything of this.**

* * *

**3. Lily, His Only Love**

It started as a burning feeling. A sudden pain in his arm, nothing severe. He'd felt it before, when Lord Voldemort was on one of his missions to rid the world of the impure. In fact, the only emotion he felt was a dull annoyance at being interrupted. He had finally settled into rhythm in his grading and there was a new distraction.

Sighing, he glanced at the clock. 11:30. Snape eyed the rest of the essays with a groan. At that rate, he would be forced to stay up until well beyond midnight once more, particularly since he had been required to go to the Halloween feast. The thought set him in a worse mood than before and he skimmed back over the paper he was grading, ferociously scrawling a "P" at the top before turning to the next one, pointedly casting the pain aside.

Focused as he was on reducing the pile of papers before him and their mediocre states, it wasn't until his left arm gave a sudden flare of pain that he realized the burning sensation had gotten increasingly stronger over the next hour. Giving a quiet grunt of pain, he dropped his quill and unconsciously brought his right hand up, fingers digging into the location of his Mark. It burned, though not with the same pain that indicated that Lord Voldemort required his presence. In fact, he wasn't quite sure what this feeling was to indicate.

Suddenly, it pulsed, sending a violent flare of agony through his arm. He clawed forcefully at his left arm, as though he could remove it if he dug in deep enough, the world around him going black in the pain. Slowly, the world came back into focus and he noticed the mess of ink on the floor, courtesy to his spilled inkwell. Snape muffled a groan and gave up on the essays. There was something more important to focus on.

Hurrying to his fireplace, he grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and tossed it into the fire, his movements jerky. The fire burst green at once, as though it was aware of the man's impatience, and he stepped into it with a cry of "Dumbledore's office!"

Immediately, the flames engulfed him and he found himself expelled in the Headmaster's study. The man he came to see looked up calmly, regarding him with a mix of curiosity and concern. "Good evening, Severus," he greeted. "What brings you here at such a late hour?" The man gestured towards one of the chairs before the desk but Snape preferred to pace in front of it in a sudden bout of anxiety.

For a while, he merely walked back and forth, wondering how he ought to express his concern over the situation even as his apprehension grew. Finally, he gave up finding a proper way to explain and merely jumped straight into it.

"Something happened to the Dark Lord," he said without preamble. "I don't know what," he added immediately, watching Dumbledore open his mouth, "but something's not right. The Mark, it's burning."

Snape watched as concern flooded the old man's face, concern and apprehension.

"Have you...?" The man did not finished but he did not need to.

"No," Severus said shortly. "I thought to wait." He impatiently pulled back the left sleeve of his robe, revealing the Dark Mark underneath.

It was different, angry and distorted on his skin. While he normally disliked the sight, reminding him of all the poor choices he had made, it looked still more repulsive then. And yet, as he watched, repulsed yet unable to look away, the lines softened, seeming to fade into his skin until nothing but an imprint of what had been remained.

"Voldemort has fallen," Dumbledore said in a hushed voice. "But," he added, sadness mingling with awe, "at what cost?"

Snape was puzzled. There was naught to be upset about if the darkest wizard of their age had fallen. Yet the man acted as though it had been the death of a member of the Order, rather than the one whom they fought.

He was startled out of his thoughts when the Headmaster got to his feet and swung a traveling cloak over his deep purple robes. "Wait here," he commanded the man. "If anybody asks for me, tell them that I had official business that could not wait."

"But-" the dark-haired man protested but before he could do anything else, the Headmaster strode to his fire and threw in a handful of Floo Powder, shouting "The Hog's Head Inn!" as he did so, leaving Severus to remember the events that had taken place in the very same building several months previously.

He was not sure whether it was several minutes or several hours later when the man returned; time had no meaning while he was thus preoccupied. However, one glance at Dumbledore and he knew something was wrong. Very, very wrong. A great anguish seemed to weight down the man as he came back through the fireplace with none of the same energy he had when he left it. The headmaster seemed almost startled to see him there, still waiting.

"What is it?" Snape asked immediately, his voice tinged with anxiety. He had never seen the man so defeated and strained.

"Severus..." Dumbledore's voice trailed off and he looked up, meeting blue eyes that were missing their twinkle and seemed to be watery. "I... Sit down, please."

It was a request, not an order, and given the situation, Severus would find it hard-pressed to remain standing, even if it were a command. He obediently sat, his eyes following the headmaster pacing before him.

"Severus," the man repeated. "I'm so sorry. Voldemort arrived at the home of the Potters - it seems that the Secret Keeper told him the place - and tried to murder their son. Both James and Lily are dead."

For a second, Severus was sure that he had misheard. Perhaps it was a ringing in his ears after the stress he had been under. Perhaps it was from a recent lack of sleep which accompanied his career as the Potions professor. Perhaps he was hearing voices. Any explanation would be truer than the words that he was sure he had heard but refused to believe. His Lily, dead? It was simply inconceivable.

"Severus?" prompted the headmaster, looking at him with a terrible expression of concern.

"No," he said forcefully, looking at him with angry eyes. "You're lying. You misunderstood. You thought you saw her dead. You're wrong!" His voice had risen to a shout but Dumbledore had done nothing, had said nothing, had just let him rave.

"Please, Severus, I swear-"

"NO!" Snape had never heard his own voice sound so raw and broken. He would visit Godric's Hollow and prove to himself that Dumbledore was wrong. Getting to his feet, he hurried past the man and walked to the fireplace. A handful of Floo Powder was rapidly thrown into the fire and he shouted, "The Three Broomsticks!" Immediately, he was whisked away.

As soon as he arrived, he marched out of the tavern, ignoring Madam Rosmerta's greetings and entreaties for a drink before he left. Pausing for a breath to collect his emotions, he turned on the spot and disappeared.

After the usual tight squeeze he felt as he Apparated, Snape found himself on unfamiliar territory. He had not visited Lily since the day of her wedding and he had only the faintest idea of where she lived, aside from the fact that it was in a little cottage in Godric's Hollow. He was positive he had at least arrived in the right village and looked around. There was no choice but to pick and direction and move about. He was sure he'd find it eventually.

Setting off in the night, he began to wander aimlessly. His eyes flickered over each one, wondering if that was where the Potters lived, where his precious Lily spent time with his worst enemy. He had never believed that she would turn so fully on him. Even those dark days following their falling-out, those days when he wanted to do nothing more than end everything, to stop the pain and the anguish which seemed to never cease swirling through his veins, he had never believed that she would turn around so fully. How very wrong he was...

Suddenly, he remembered the fact that Dumbledore had mentioned. _"It seems that their Secret Keeper told him the place."_They were hidden under the Fidelius Charm and he was never given the location. But, that didn't stop him from knowing exactly who was their Secret-Keeper. If he knew James Potter at all - and unfortunately, he did - he knew exactly who his only selection for the position would be. Sirius Black. His other archenemy.

The silent man grit his teeth. On the very small off-chance that the lies which Dumbledore revealed had merit, he knew who he would have to exact his revenge on. If his Lily was hurt in any way, he would make the man suffer greatly...

Thoughts of a similar vein kept him going as night fell further, as the clock in the village square sounded midnight, and then one. When it struck two and nothing had been discovered in any part of the village he had explored, Snape turned, ready to give in. However, his eye caught what appeared to be a destroyed home a little distance away.

His breath catching in his throat, he hurried forward, his eyes fixed on the building as though he was afraid that it would disappear after searching for it for so long. Nearly tripping over his swirling robes in his haste to reach the building, he grew closer, looking around for any sign that this was the one he suspected it was.

It was clear that the Fidelius charm had broken sometime during the attack. That simple fact alone caused a pain to shoot through his chest but he didn't give up hope. Not yet. Not until there was proof.

The house itself was completely demolished. Part of the roof had been blasted away and the rest looked as if it had collapsed on the impact. It was eerily dark, as though a black gloom had fallen over the area. A quiet creaking sound reached his ears and he turned to see the front gate swinging in the small breeze. Walking to it, he stepped into the yard.

Nothing happened, though part of him almost wished something did, to prove that there was still somebody alive. He took several hesitant steps farther and still nothing happened. Finally, he walked up to the front door, which had been fully blasted off its hinges, and entered the destroyed home.

Upon entering, he could see signs that the building had been recently occupied. Pictures of the happy family hung upon the walls and he caught a glimpse of a smiling, auburn-haired woman before turned away. He would not subject himself to the torture of seeing his beloved happy with his enemy.

His robes trailed silently behind him, sweeping above debris as he picked his way through the destroyed cottage. At one point, he stopped and stared at the body of James Potter, nearly buried by a piece of wall. For once, he could not stir up any hate in him as he looked. Squatting down, he examined the body and knew that he had died from the Killing Curse. It was Voldemort. He was sure of it.

Panic suddenly overwhelmed him, pushing him forward. Faster. Faster. He flew up the stairs in a flurry of black cloth and turned, instinctively finding his way to the nursery. Opening the door, he stepped in.

The entire roof had been blown off and the floor was nearly all collapsed beneath him. The furniture had fallen to the lower floor and lay, broken beyond repair. He could hardly step in and instead, he turned again, running back down the stairs, desperation mixing with dread in his chest. He knew in the smallest, darkest corners of his mind what he was see but he fought it off. It would not be true, it could not be true.

In his distraction, he had nearly missed the glimpse of pale skin. His heart stopped and suddenly, he could not stand. Falling to his knees, he brushed away the debris gently, as if underneath, she was in pain. Even that would be better than what he saw: Lily, her eyes open and unseeing, a mask of terror on her sweet features.

Slowly, hoping against hope, he put out a hand and touched her limp wrist. He could feel nothing aside from the slight trembling of his fingers. But it did not matter, because she was not, could not be-

"Dead."

Snape turned, feeling cold. Dumbledore stood behind him, compassion etched into his face, which suddenly seemed lined and much older in the light of recent events. "Come, we must return," the man said.

Severus got to his feet, feeling the concerned glance on him but thankful that the Headmaster had not attempted to speak any worthless words of sympathy. They would have meant nothing. Nothing would be right again, not when she was gone.

The other man motioned for him to Apparate first and he spun on the spot. Some part of his consciousness registered that he was still cold and unfeeling. He held onto those feelings as long as he could, knowing that as soon as they left him, he would fall victim to much more personal emotions.

He did not know exactly where he was planning to Apparate to but some deeper part of him must have, since with a swirl of colors and the familiar feeling of compression, he found himself standing, not in the Three Broomsticks like he had expected, but rather directly before the Headmaster's desk at Hogwarts. He collapsed into a chair while a quiet pop announced the arrival of Dumbledore himself.

The lines of sadness in the man's face was brought out even more by the light in the room. He sat in his usual place and looked at Snape. The warmth and compassion seemed the melt the ice surrounding the spy's heart. Slumping forward onto the large desk before him, Severus Snape closed his eyes and wept.


End file.
